There is no one in the flat
by DetectiveSilence
Summary: One-shot sort-of sequel to 'There is no one at the door'. The Doctor has gone to Sherlock for help with a case. But then John arrives back from the shops, and Sherlock must make sure he doesn't meet the Doctor, whatever the cost.


**This is a sort-of sequel to 'There is no one at the door', so you might want to read that first, although it's not mandatory. I literally wrote this out of thin air, with no planning or anything, so apologies for strangeness of characters. Sherlock and the Doctor are the strangest of friends!**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock is owned by various people who I have no control of. It also belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who I have no control over because I'm fairly certain he's dead.**

**PLEASE review my work. It really helps, and I could really do with the help! Thanks for reading!**

Sherlock was sprawled on the sofa, his hands in that prayer position he always did, and his eyes closed. He was helping the Doctor with another case, and he was in his mind palace trying to work it out. The Doctor was in the kitchen, making tea, and was busy trying to find the tea bags without discovering any body parts. It was not going well.

Sherlock thought, and thought, and thought. The Doctor had finally found the tea bags, and was trying to find the mugs that he had miss-placed in an effort to find the tea bags. He decided to just go through ever cupboard systematically, which was not a good idea in 221B. He found a single mug and picked it up, and yelped, because it was filled with teeth. Human teeth!

"Sherlock, what is this?"

"I don't know, why don't you use your massive alien intellect and_ tell_ me?"

"Um… are you aware that there are teeth in this mug?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied, eyes still closed.

"And, _why_ are there teeth in this mug?"

"Because I put them there."

"Yeah, but _why_?"

"Because I don't want John to know." Sherlock replied, somewhat moodily, without bothering to turn his head.

"Okaaaay." The Doctor said, with a frown on his face. He decided to leave it, because he didn't really want to know how he got the teeth, or why he had the teeth, or what he was going to use them for. He also decided to give up on making tea, because he didn't want to find something more gruesome than teeth, like fingers, or livers, or- Damn it, he was thinking about it, and he really didn't want to. He went to sit on one of the chairs, and look at some of the pictures from the case again.

Sherlock finally bothered to look at the Doctor, with a confused look on his face.

"What happened to the tea?"

"I gave up."

"Why?" he asked, in a slightly disappointed manner.

The Doctor leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and almost spat out his next words.

"Because I didn't want to find any other body parts!"

Sherlock sighed sulkily. "John would have made me tea." He mumbled under his breath, but not quietly enough that the Doctor didn't hear. He sighed. He was always being compared to this _John_, or even being called _John_, and the Doctor had yet to meet him yet. The last time he had come, Sherlock hadn't let him or Clara meet John, but had locked them out until John was out of earshot. He found this newer Sherlock more annoying, more secretive, and he really wanted to know why Sherlock had changed. Then a new thought entered his head. Was being compared to John an _insult_?

Suddenly, Sherlock jumped out of his position, and beamed at the Doctor.

"I've got it! Oh this is perfect, this is so perfect even _you_ couldn't think of it! Oh, I am liking him…"

The Doctor's eyes widened with hope. This case had been bothering him for weeks, but after 3 hours Sherlock had solved it.

"What? What is it?!"

"When the woman went to-" and then Sherlock cut off, mid-sentence. His eyes widened in sudden fear at the noise of the downstairs door being unlocked, and he spun round to face the Doctor. His voice was low but urgent.

"It's John."

The Doctor smiled, because he really wanted to meet the infamous John. His voice was loud and cheery.

"Great! Always wanted to meet Jo-"

Sherlock cut in, with emphasized concern in his voice.

"No. You're not meeting John. You have to go."

"What? But I want to-"

"No! Go! Now!" Sherlock said sharply, gesturing with his hands in a panicky way.

"Why?"

"You can't meet John."

"Why?"

"Because I can't let you."

"Wha-"

Sherlock shoved him harshly towards his TARDIS, which was parked in the middle of the room, and rushed towards the door just as John was opening it. He opened the door just a bit, so that he could stick his head out, but you couldn't see past.

"Oh. Hello John!"

John frowned, what was happening?

"Uh, hello Sherlock. What are you doing?"

"Standing here, obviously."

"Right. Can I get past?" John asked, making to go past Sherlock.

"No. You have to stay here."

"What? Why? Is there someone in there with you?"

"No, there's no one here, no one at all, just me." Sherlock said, far too quickly. Everything about Sherlock was wrong; his body language, the way he was talking, the way he was looking at John, the way he was hiding whatever was happening behind him. Hell, Sherlock was usually the most convincing liar ever, but everything about him screamed _secrets_. What was he hiding?

"Sherlock, I can tell your lying."

"What? No I'm not!" Sherlock said, raising his voice with outrage, but it didn't hide the fact that it convinced no one. He really was running out of options now. He couldn't keep John out for long, at least not by arguing, because John had had enough, and he couldn't keep him out by force, because despite his inferior size, he was a good deal stronger than Sherlock. He would have to think of something else, and fast.

"Sherlock, let me through now!"

"NO! Go downstairs, and I promise I won't do any experiments in the kitchen all week!"

"What? Wait… _WHAT_?"

"Whole week, no experiments, downstairs now."

John frowned at Sherlock's urgency. Why was it so important that he didn't know about this… _something_? The scenario seemed strangely familiar. And then it dawned on him. It had happened a few weeks ago. When those people had been at the door, and Sherlock had slammed the door on them, he hadn't let John see them. It was the same. Who didn't Sherlock want John to meet?

But right now, he knew he wasn't going to find out. He would have to find out later. He could ask Mycroft, or someone else, or pressure Sherlock into telling him. But at this moment, he was going to take the golden opportunity that Sherlock had offered him.

"Month."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, a whole month without experimenting in 221B? It was almost unbearable even to think of it!

"2 weeks."

"Month, and you make me tea." John said, folding his arms and smirking at him. He really did have the upper hand, and Sherlock could tell that he would only make the price higher if he continued. A month and having to make tea was bad enough!

"Fine. Go downstairs. Now!"

John went downstairs. Sherlock turned and re-entered the flat. He looked around, just in time to see the TARDIS disappear with a whoosh of alien engines. It left with a flurry of papers, and left the flat looking like a mess. Sherlock sighed; he would have to clear it all up by himself, before John got too impatient and came up to see what was happening. He picked up a piece of paper resting lightly on his foot, and turned it around. Scrawled hastily on it, in a red marker, was a note. It said:

_Thanks for the help!_

_Trans-dimensional warp? How did you even know?_

_Took the biscuits, will see you soon._

_Take care,_

_The Doctor._

Sherlock shook his head. It had been a close call, and the Doctor had exhausted him with his impatience and unusual case. At least he had kept John in the dark about the Doctor. That's what really mattered. But he couldn't tell the Doctor why. Not yet.


End file.
